


her bed was named heaven, for she was holy

by MattedZamo



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, also also also: religious smut have fun, also also i hope you enjoy okay bye, also someone stop me from posting after midnight please my crops cant sustain this life, but anyway, heaven knows what got over me, oh yeah! infidelity as well wtf, she also views katya as a goddess and thanks her a lot, she's pretty much treated like literal dirt and she likes it, so i wrote this like six months ago, this was supposed to be a part of a series but since i am no longer feral ive decided to share, trixie...doesn't get treated the best here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 05:17:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18653671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MattedZamo/pseuds/MattedZamo
Summary: It's a Sunday afternoon. It's typically the Lord's day, but Trixie's church is in Katya's home.





	her bed was named heaven, for she was holy

**Author's Note:**

> thank you Steph, for lending me your feral-ness for that one hour. it was great

Sundays were always a slow day for Trixie when she was with Mitch, and it seemed, it felt, the feeling had only carried with Katya. 

They laid in her bed, and she didn't try to push her way into Katyas space, leaving her to tend to others on her phone. 

And so that's why it surprised her when Katya pulled Trixie to her side, pushing her back before kissing her softly, gently, as if that's what they were, gentle. 

“How about some Sunday brunch?” Katya asked huskily against her lips, having to half mutter from her refusal to separate her lips from Trixies. 

“Hmff, it's not even 10.” Trixie muttered back, having to press her head back against the firm pillow so she could speak; she knew her voice was still ladled with sleep, speech an issue.

“Fine then, breakfast is better anyway.” Katya answered, moving back and away from Trixie. 

It scared her, when Katya moved away, thought her soft snarkiness had driven her completely from the bed, breathing a sigh of relief when Katya merely rested against her little pile of pillows, bringing her arms to rest behind her head. Trixie, although she had done it plenty of times before, an almost countless amount considering their time together, watched as the slopes and curves that made and defined Katyas muscles, defined  _ Katya,  _ rose and fell as she shifted. She watched as her breasts rose with her arms, before falling as her arms were placed behind her head, and then watched as they rose and fell rhythmically with her breathing, her nipples brushing endlessly against the probably dirty duvet. 

She too was under the duvet, more covered than Katya, in fact, still had a nightgown on, lilac with purple panties and ankle socks to match. Katya, ever the one to stay connected to her weak Grecian roots, believed in sheer nudity in the home, and if she must answer the door, in a blanket that she kept handy. 

“Come” Katya commanded softly, and Trixie followed her voice, her  _ command,  _ felt as if it wasn't coming from the woman right next to her, but from someone, some _ thing _ further, much further away. 

“Okay.” She answered, simplicity her default when breathless. 

She scrambled to perch herself on Katyas hips, keeping her hands on her own thighs. She wasn't sure just how much of Katya she was allowed to touch, there was no amount of worthiness set so she could even entertain the idea, and so she waited. 

She waited in those cool orbs of sea, the only thing holding the stormy waters were strong walls of pure marble, cracked with time and age and knowledge. 

She waited sitting on the throne so few had access to, an alter where gifts of any monetary value held no meaning to Katya, the goddess that everyone knew about, that everyone worshipped yet so few saw her true form, even fewer the receivers of her gifts. 

She waited watching the chest of Katya rise and fall steadily, rhythmically; watching it reminded Trixie of Katya as a whole, a strong and definite force in which nothing broke her pattern of life, one set by the woman herself. 

“May I?”

“No.” 

Trixie was never put on top, was never granted the permission to be above Katya in anyway. And yet, here she sat, above Katya yet still below her. That was her place,  _ that would always be her place  _ Trixie thought drunkenly, to be below Katya, to wait for any kind of sign of being good enough to get whatever Katya was giving. 

She watched, her breath shallowing as she did, when Katya lifted an arm, her right one, bringing it down Trixies arm to rest on top of her hand on her thigh. Her path was highlighted on her arm by goosebumps, her fingers barely containing the electricity that was a cause from her move, holding herself so as to not flip her hand and hold Katyas.

“Tell me Trixie, when was the last time a touch like that made you feel the way you feel right now?”

It was hard to swallow the dry lump in her throat, even harder to slow her brain down some so her thoughts could be cohesive once more “I don't know. I don't remember.”

“Don't?” Katya asked, her voice incredulous as she raised an eyebrow, no longer granting Trixie the simple act of affection of eye contact. “Can't or won't?”

“I- I can't.”

“I know.” 

Of  _ course  _ she knew, it was an impossible fact to put past her, one that should  _ never  _  put past her. She knew everything in this, could almost see from above, or perhaps just from afar, how things worked, how things were  _ fixed  _ to work. 

Katya repeated her touch on her other arm, with her other hand, on her other hand, so that they were symmetrical. 

“How badly do you want me to touch you?” 

“Very badly.” 

Katya cocked her head to the side, as if considering Trixies words, the weight of them, and of Trixie  _ herself. _ She was raising her hands back up, letting them travel the expanse of her still goosebumped skin until they rested on her shoulders, resting on her freckles “I don't think that's a lot Trixie.”

Her eyes shone with knowledge when they met Trixies, and although the look made her a puddle of shamed heat, her wish of eyes on hers was granted, and she wanted to thank her for another prayer answered. “Please Katya, touch me, touch me in the way you know how to touch me. No one knows my body like you do, I respond how I respond to you and you only-”

Trixie was cut off by a low chuckle deep in Katyas chest, so deep in her in fact, Trixie could feel it in her aching pussy. 

“Oh Trixie. You didn't do enough.”

-

Her knees ached, the sharp outlines of the dips separating the white 6” by 6” tiles cutting into her skin, inflaming them in a way that still didn't hold a candle to what she felt in her soul.  _ It  _ was engulfed in flames, the heat of lust, desire,  _ need of worthiness _ , being the fire that won the competition between it and her knees. 

“You know, it's refreshing to know you're useful for something.” Katya spoke,  _ spoke,  _ after nearly two hours of silence.

They were in her bathroom, Trixie having been on her knees since leaving the room, having been fed after Katya had eaten her fill. She didn't complain that what she had gotten wasn't nearly as enough to compensate her hunger from the fact that she had last eaten the morning before, because  _ Katya  _ had fed her and  _ Katya  _ knew what was best for her. 

She had said once before, and she didn't need to repeat it, Trixie didn't know Trixie.

Her nipples ached; the house was cold, the heating not enough to block out the New England late fall air that seeped inside through the bottoms and tops of the door and all the windows. Her everything ached in fact, but the sight of Katyas radiance proved ample warmth. 

Katya moved from standing in front of the sink and Trixie moved, shuffling on her knees to move out of Katyas way, and watched as Katya sat on the toilet cover after dropping it harshly, the smack of plastic on porcelain almost enough to make Trixie break and jump. 

“Come here.” Katya said sharply and Trixie obliged, no noise of any kind coming from her sealed mouth, no matter how much the movement felt to costly to her precious joints. 

Katya leaned forward, close enough to touch, but not quite “tell me Trixie, tell me with everything you have, why should I touch you?” 

“You shouldn't.”

“And why not?” Katyas eyes grew darker as she asked her questions, as she watched Trixie watch her.

“I'm not worthy yet.”

“Will you ever be worthy?”

“No.” “No.” They spoke at the same time, and Katya smiled with pride, the feeling so overwhelmingly euphoric it flooded Trixies senses enough to almost knock her to the ground that's been holding her up for so many hours. 

Almost.

Katya licked her lips, still so close to Trixie she could  _ smell _ the scent her saliva left on her lips, disgusting from her breakfast but enticing from being  _ Katya,  _ watched her eyes as she spoke “you'll never be worthy, never be enough for me to touch you because you  _ want  _ me to touch, but you're just enough for me to touch you, fuck you when  _ I  _ want to.”

“Yes.” 

It wasn't a lot, but it was everything. 

Katya snaked her hand to go under Trixies nightgown, her panties discarded the moment the command for their abandonment left Katyas lips, her fingertips dancing coldly across her pussy lips before meeting her clit, hard with exasperated need. 

Katya moved forward, past Trixies parted lips, landing by the shell of her ear, licking it and biting it before she spoke, her fingers that were moving hot and fast a juxtaposition to her slow words “you're filthy Mattel. You have a loving husband, one who gives you everything you want and need. You're spoiled and disgusting. He buys you perfumes, furs, shoes and food those who work their whole lives away can only imagine ever affording. And yet, you stay here, in front of me, a person, a  _ woman _ to whom you are not married to, spreading your legs like a common whore. Maybe you were a common whore in your past life, and your selfishness of life was so strong you became a whore once more. You'd do anything I'd asked of you wouldn't you? You'd drink my spit. You'd lick my shoe. You'd clean my mess. You'd let me hit you clear across the cheek and yet say sorry for causing me such strain. You're a pig Mattel, and that's all you'll ever be in your blush and bashful, a piggy little whore.”

Trixie hiccuped as she came, her eyes rolling everywhere in her head, her veins heavy with the hot ice Katya directly pumped in them. She was right, had been and always will be. She was married, she was given all the gifts any girl would and could ever want. 

And yet she begged for more, begged like the shameless homeless on a common dirty street; on her knees, her hands in the air, her voice wavering to the woman she called her god, her mouth, body, and soul opened for anything she was blessed enough to take. 

And as she shook with her orgasm racking her body, she pleaded out her thank yous to Katya, for touching her, for making her come, for telling her her truth. 

Katya stepped over her, letting her catch herself by bracing herself against the closed seat of the toilet, and she shuffled to where she heard the water run in the tub some feet away, her knees no longer screaming in pain, but by some miracle, thanking Katya as well.

**Author's Note:**

> mattedzamo on Tumblr...it's a wild ride on there though


End file.
